


Brunettes Just Wanna Have Fun

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brenda goes brunette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brunettes Just Wanna Have Fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CylonRaydor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CylonRaydor/gifts).



> I wrote this for prompt 23, _Brenda goes brunette_. I had a lot of fun with this fic, and I really hope you enjoy it! Comments are magical, so let me know what you think!

By the time Sharon Raydor arrived at the bar, it was already thrumming with a frenetic energy that matched her mood. She cast predatory green eyes over the crowd, taking in her evening’s company, hoping that she would spot one or two appealing prospects. Ignoring the voice inside her head, the one that chastised her for entertaining even the faintest desire to participate in a one night stand, Sharon made her way to the bar. 

_This is so not you,_ the voice said. 

Her libido promptly shushed this disapproving voice. It had been far, far too long since Sharon had indulged in a little company of the adult variety, and taking over a new job and housing a young ward had left her with very little in the way of opportunity. 

She was tense, she was horny, and she was determined to have a good time. 

Pressing herself against the bar, Sharon eyed the women on either side of her, appreciatively taking in the appealing sight of lush curves, ample cleavage, and feminine features. She was proudly bisexual, but Sharon’s libido craved the touch of a woman, and she hoped coming to a lesbian bar would cater to her desires. 

_So far, so good_.

The young bartender took her order, and within minutes Sharon was nursing her vodka tonic and opening herself to the beat of the music coming from the small dance floor and the uniquely female energy that filled the space. Aside from the stray gay man, the club was filled with mostly women, and Sharon was pleased that she had chosen not to go to one of the “straight” bars closer to her home. The idea of being hit on by men tonight was unappealing--she enjoyed dating men, but her proclivities were more Sapphic in nature. Tonight, she hadn’t wanted men getting in the way, nor had she wanted to waste her time trying to pick up a straight woman. 

She took a pull of her drink from the straw between her teeth, smirking at a nearby young woman who appeared very appreciative of the way her lips pursed around the neon green straw. The young woman raised her beer at Sharon and grinned before returning her attention to her friends. 

Sharon laughed. For a woman her age, she still had it. The acknowledgment was hugely satisfying and gave her a boost of confidence. No, she didn’t do this sort of thing very often, but the results were likely to satisfy her needs until she had the time and the inclination to begin dating again. 

_Whenever that happens_ , Sharon thought, hiding a frown in her drink as she considered just how long it had been since her last relationship. It had felt like ages ago and in reality, it had been nearly four years. It also hadn’t helped that the very few people she had been interested in since then had been either her colleague or very, very married--or a combination of both, as was the case with the woman she still harbored feelings for. Those were both deal breakers for Sharon, and she gave up in favor of focusing on her work. It was a good distraction--and it kept Duracell in business. 

Perhaps the self-imposed celibacy had been unnecessary, a fact confirmed by the tension that even her favorite vibrator had been unable to ease as of late. She was tightly wound and really, really, _really_ needed to get laid. 

Sharon did not have many requirements for this particular encounter. Ideally, her sex partner would be older than her own children, well-groomed, and not too inebriated to coherently hold a brief conversation. She would need to be visually stimulating--Sharon tended to like women close to her own age, but physical appearance was not necessarily a strong factor. She didn’t have a type--blondes, redheads, and brunettes all appealed to her, and she was keeping her options open tonight. 

She scanned the crowd, searching for women who looked to be on their own. It certainly wouldn’t help to make a move on a woman who was taken, and she was not keen on waiting until someone approached her. There were woman scattered in groups all throughout the club; couples, trios, and larger groups mingled and danced and drank. The women who were alone were either with their male counterparts (a clear no-fly zone) or on the dance floor, where it was much more difficult to discern whether they were dancing alone or with the entire club. 

After several minutes of nursing her drink, Sharon found that her attention kept returning to the slim figure of a woman on the dance floor. She appeared to be alone, dancing by herself and seeming not to care if anyone joined her. Her dark brown hair shone under the dim lights above the crowd, cascading over pale shoulders. Her red dress was cut low over her full breasts and accentuated the curves of her hips. The dress ended at mid-thigh, showing off her lean legs and sexy pumps. She was not the greatest dancer, but her energy was infectious. Sharon couldn’t look away, hypnotized by the sway of her hips as they moved to the beat of the music. The woman was completely absorbed in the dance, running the hand that was not grasping her black clutch through her long, gently curly hair, lifting it off her neck before allowing it to cascade through her fingertips. 

Sharon licked her lips, tilting her head slightly as she watched. She couldn’t see the woman’s face, but that only made the dance more erotic, as if the beauty of her sensuous dance and her gorgeous body were waiting to reveal the remainder of her physical features. Sharon caught a flash of red lips before the woman spun on her heel, presenting the captain with a scintillating view of her firm backside in that dress. The back of the dress plunged much lower than Sharon expected, revealing the toned muscles of the woman’s back. 

As the song changed and melded into another, the woman’s step faltered, making Sharon wonder if the woman were somewhat clumsy when she was not oozing sensuality on a dancefloor. She made up for it easily, shifting her body to match the new rhythm. It was endearing and very appealing--it seemed authentic to Sharon, as if she were watching a woman who clearly didn’t do this often, and who was clearly not dancing for the purpose of attracting herself a companion. 

_Please be older than twenty-five_ , Sharon thought to herself, tipping her empty glass up to her lips so she could suck on an ice cube. She clinked it against her teeth, sucking the melting water with her tongue as she wondered just what this woman’s story was. Was she alone? Was she married? Was she interested in making a new...friend? 

The strength of Sharon’s interest surprised her. It had been a long time since she had been so taken with someone, and the rush of attraction and adrenaline hummed dizzily in her blood. There was a part of her, the confident, self-assured part, that wanted nothing more than to come up alongside the woman and press the front of her body against her back, grasp her hips with her hands, and match the sway of her body. She wanted to whisper things into that woman’s ear, wanted to turn her around so she could see those red lips part in a grin. She wanted to see her eyes, to find out her name, to kiss the long, pale column of her throat. 

Sharon’s cheeks flushed hot with arousal. She helped herself to another ice cube, hoping that this woman was indeed alone, over twenty-five, and interested. She would not dance with her, as she wanted--at least not yet. She wouldn’t assume that the woman wanted company, and she was not ready to face the potential sting of rejection. 

When the song ended, a group of young baby dykes surged the dance floor, flailing their arms as they enthusiastically jumped along to a pop song. The woman stopped and, seemingly put off by the interruption to her solitary dance party, moved toward the tables that lined the walls of the club. She found one of the few empty tables and slid into a chair, placing her clutch on the tabletop before lifting her hair from the back of her neck and fanning her overheated face. 

This, Sharon realized, was her chance. She ordered herself another drink and, after glancing at her reflection in the mirror that lined the back of the bar, she took a fortifying breath and headed for the woman’s table. 

Coming up behind the woman, Sharon leaned down and husked, “You are a beautiful dancer.” The woman shivered, and she continued, “Would you care for some company?” When the woman nodded, Sharon sat down across from her, eager to get a better look at her. 

Her eyes widened. 

_Oh my God._

Staring back at her, brown, doe-like eyes wide with shock, was Brenda Leigh Johnson. 

-

Brenda’s mouth hung unattractively open, no doubt making her look like a fish out of water. It was the best she could manage under the circumstances, staring across the table at Captain Raydor. No--this was definitely _not_ the impenetrable captain. This was _Sharon_ , her glorious mane of brown hair more magnificent than ever, her body clad in a form-fitting black dress that showed off her curves rather than diminished them as her work attire sometimes did. She was definitely not dressed for the office. She was dressed for a night out, much like Brenda. She was dressed for a night of--

Brenda cheeks burned with embarrassment. She’d come to this club primarily to drink and dance, but she had not been adverse to the idea of participating in some adult activities if anyone caught her eye and was bold enough to make a move. She had not been prepared for the possibility of running into a former colleague, not when it looked like she was clearly asking for it. 

When she realized that Sharon appeared to be just as embarrassed and stunned as she was, Brenda finally choked out a laugh. “Capt’n!” Her mind raced, trying to determine whether the other woman had recognized her earlier. Had this been her idea of a joke, pretending to hit on her in a bar? Or had she not recognized her thanks to her makeover and liked what she saw? 

Her mind reeled as she considered a third option: had Sharon recognized her and decided to hit on her anyway? 

She wished she hadn’t finished her cocktail before she went to dance -- a slug or two of a rummy punch would definitely have helped her navigate the murky waters of this insane situation. Searching for something to fill the increasingly awkward silence, Brenda finally offered, “Come here often?” Sharon’s eyes widened even further, and Brenda’s face grew hotter. “Oh for heaven’s--” She shook her head and smiled. “I’m gonna start over now. Sharon, hi. What a surprise seein’ you here, of all places.” 

The captain collected herself. “I could say the same of you. You look...different.” Those green eyes looked almost black in the dim light of the bar, and Brenda wished she could read the expression in them. She knew that Sharon was watching her, studying her, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what Sharon was thinking. 

“Do I?” Brenda asked, jealously eyeing Sharon’s drink. 

Sharon, who noticed everything, stopped a passing waitress and asked her for another drink. Returning her gaze to Brenda, she nodded. “Your hair.” 

“Oh! Right…” Brenda touched her newly dyed locks, catching a glimpse of her own brown curls where they fell over her shoulders. “I needed a change.” 

Sharon leaned in closer, raising her voice a little louder. “What was that?”

Brenda grinned. She leaned in closer and spoke a little louder. “I needed a change...felt like doin’ somethin’ a little spontaneous!” 

Sharon nodded. 

The waitress returned promptly, presenting Brenda with a violently pink cocktail that Sharon quickly paid for. Brenda’s mind reeled: was she really in a lesbian bar with Sharon Raydor, who had just bought her a drink? Had Sharon actually hit on her? Even more strangely, had Brenda actually liked it? It was all completely surreal to her. Her life had changed so much so quickly, and while this strange interaction seemed fitting, it was also entirely foreign to her. 

Brenda silently thanked her hairdresser. Carlos had convinced her not to cut her hair, as she had suggested, and had instead convinced her to dye it instead. “Trust me, honey,” he had said, “brunettes have more fun.” She hadn’t believed him, but his sage advice had proven correct. She was having the time of her life; she felt sexy and spontaneous and free, and she had even managed to catch the interest of the very woman who had intrigued and stimulated her imagination for years. 

At this rate, she decided she might never go back to being a blonde. 

She wished the music weren’t so loud so she could properly talk to the captain. There were a thousand things that she wanted to say and to ask, but the pulsing bass made conversation difficult. She supposed that was the point; a quick glance around the club confirmed that most women were either dancing, kissing, or drinking. She and Sharon would be drinking, but as for the other things…

She took a sip of her punch. Licking her lips, she touched Sharon’s arm where it rested on the table and leaned forward, pleased when Sharon leaned in and tilted her head to present her ear. “Wanna go outside?” 

“Oh. I don’t smoke,” Sharon replied briskly. 

“Me neither, but it’s quieter. We can talk.” 

“Oh. Right.” Sharon nodded, collecting her drink and standing awkwardly beside the table. She ran her hand along the side of her hip, as if looking for a pocket to slip her balled up fist into, and Brenda grinned. Some things didn’t change. 

Brenda cocked her head in the direction of the door and led the way, feeling certain that Sharon was watching her ass as they walked. The knowledge made her feel powerful and exposed, all at once. She wondered if anyone but Sharon Raydor would ever have that power over her. 

The rush of cool night air hit her as soon as she opened the door, and she was grateful for the opportunity to cool down after breaking a sweat on the dance floor. She sought an empty bench across the small patio beneath a string of fairy lights and sat down, crossing her legs. Sharon stood in front of her, a smirk playing at her lips. “What?” 

Sharon chuckled. “This is the last place I ever expected to run into you.” 

Brenda giggled. “I know what you mean. When I was gettin’ dressed tonight, I had no idea that the one and only Captain Raydor was gonna try an’ pick me up.” She smirked, feeling bold as she watched Sharon’s cheeks flush once more. “Guess I made a good choice with this dress, huh?” She threw in a wink for good measure. 

“It’s a great dress,” Sharon said, skimming her eyes over Brenda’s seated form. “Very, uh, flattering.” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Brenda countered, cocking her head as she observed the clean curves of the dress that, under the yellow fairy lights, was actually a deep plum. She looked fantastic. 

Sharon shifted on her feet before she finally sat down beside Brenda, crossing her ankles. Brenda hid her surprise; for all intents and purposes, Sharon seemed completely flustered, nothing like the confident woman who had only just spoken in such a throaty, sexy voice in her ear. It had never occurred to Brenda that she might have the same power as Sharon, that they might be on equal footing. The dynamic between them had shifted and Brenda was grateful. 

“You know, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I honestly didn’t recognize you when I…” 

Brenda smiled, raising her glass. “And yet you still bought me a drink.” 

“It was the least I could do.” 

Against her better judgment, Brenda voiced her thoughts. “I wonder what you would’ve done if I’d been some stranger…” Would Sharon have asked her to dance? Would she have asked her back to her place? Would they have made it as far as the alley? It surprised her to get caught up in these questions, knowing that she would have said yes to whatever Sharon may have asked.

Sharon was blushing again, and Brenda loved it. “Ah, but you’re not a stranger. You’re also married, so that line of hypothetical musing is moot.” 

Brenda held up her left hand, wiggling her bare fingers. “I’m not married anymore. Divorce was finalized on Tuesday.” 

Sharon’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. I had no idea. I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Why are you sorry?” 

The captain studied her for a minute. “I’m not sure. I suppose it depends on whether or not you’re happy to be divorced.” 

Brenda pursed her lips. “I am, I think. I wasn’t, not for a long time. But it was the right thing to do. We weren’t happy and now maybe we’ll both have a chance to be.” 

Sharon held up her glass, nodding. “Congratulations, then.” 

Brenda clinked her glass against Sharon’s with a smile. “Thanks, Sharon.” 

\- 

The breeze was mercifully cool against Sharon’s cheeks, and for that she was eternally grateful. She sipped from her drink, sneaking sideways glances at the woman sitting beside her, afraid to be caught staring. She wanted to look more closely, to examine this new version of Brenda Leigh Johnson. In some ways she was still the same brazen woman she knew as a Deputy Chief Johnson, but in other ways--the ways that counted--she was a stranger. She didn’t know this person, this temporary brunette who spent her Saturday night dancing in a lesbian bar. Was Brenda queer? Was she experimenting? Was she only teasing Sharon for her mistake, or was she flirting with her? 

Sharon finally turned to look at her. Brenda was gorgeous as a blonde, but the brown hair made her look different -- it made her look more seductive, more dangerous. Had that been the point? She looked incredible, and Sharon found it unsettling. 

She’d spent the better part of a year trying to get over her feelings for Brenda Leigh Johnson. She’d convinced herself that she’d done a decent job, but coming face to face with the woman only proved that she hadn’t gotten over her at all. She’d come to the club looking for someone to fuck, not someone to fall back in love with. 

She cleared her throat. “So you’re a free woman now. Is that why you dyed your hair?” 

Brenda nodded sheepishly. “So corny, right? I just wanted a change...I wanted to do somethin’ reckless, but not irreversible. Well, I almost chopped most of it off, but my hairdresser talked me out of it. I kinda like it...I like the way it makes me feel.” 

“And how do you feel?” Sharon was hardly conscious of the way she leaned into Brenda. 

“I feel like a free, sexy, powerful woman,” she replied, her voice dropping lower than Sharon had ever heard it. 

Sharon nodded. “I saw you when you were dancing. You certainly evoked all of those qualities.” 

Brenda quirked an eyebrow. “Were you watchin’ me dance?” 

“For a while.” 

“Is that why you came over to me? ‘Cause you liked what you saw?” 

Sharon blushed, looking down at her feet. She traced the points of her heels with her eyes, observed the scattered cigarette butts that littered the ground and the empty beer bottles on a nearby bench. Everything about this conversation screamed “DANGER!” in bold neon letters. She felt as if she’d been backed into a corner, and the voice of her libido was growing louder. She was very, very interested -- and why shouldn’t she be? Brenda was single, she was no longer her co-worker, she was age-appropriate, and Sharon already had feelings for her. 

It was very nearly perfect, which was why it was all wrong. 

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” 

Brenda nodded slowly, her lips twitching in apparent disappointment at Sharon’s response. “I’m sorry you ended up here with me, and not some pretty young thing.” 

“I’m not.” 

Color flooded Brenda’s cheeks. “This is…” She gave a nervous laugh, sounding more like the Brenda that Sharon had known. “This is so strange, isn’t it? You an’ me, here at the same time?” 

“It’s not so strange, really. We’re both obviously here for a reason.” 

“I came to dance. I wanted to be...around women.” Her dark eyes flicked up to meet Sharon’s. “What brought you here?” 

Sharon licked her lips, pleased to see Brenda’s eyes track the progress of her tongue. “I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” 

“Guess neither of us are alone right now.” 

Sharon chuckled, leaning back against the bench as she swallowed the dregs of her vodka tonic. She needed to cool down, to pull herself away from the woman’s gaze before she did something she would regret. “That’s not exactly what I meant...but you know what? I’m glad that things turned out this way. I’ve missed you, Brenda Leigh. It’s really nice to see you again.” 

Brenda mimicked Sharon’s position, her fingers tracing patterns in the the condensation of her glass. The flush of her cheeks persisted, and Sharon wondered if she shocked the other woman by insinuating that she’d come to this club to get laid. After a moment, Brenda contributed, “I’ve missed you too, Sharon. I had all sorts of thoughts in mind about how I hoped tonight would go, and I just never thought it would turn out like this. I’m not disappointed though.” 

Sharon licked her lips again, feeling as though something in the air had shifted between them. For all of Brenda’s teasing, Sharon felt that her attraction was genuine. It was the same attraction that had simmered between them for years; the only difference was now they were both free to pursue it. Sharon was interested, but was Brenda? She had no idea if Brenda was being flirtatious because she _was_ interested, or if she was simply feeling bold with the freedom she’d chased with her new hairstyle. 

The captain felt as if she were on a tightrope. She wanted Brenda, but not as a one night stand. She did not want to put herself in a position where she might compromise whatever could happen between them, not for the sake of acting on her physical desire. 

Brenda toyed with a strand of hair, twirling it around her finger, and Sharon could do nothing but watch. She suppressed a shiver. “We could always go back inside and have a dance…” Brenda offered, watching the captain through half-lidded eyes.

Sharon could picture it clearly, just as she had earlier: her body pressed against Brenda’s, exploring her curves with the barrier of her dress in between, radiating heat as their mouths flirted ever closer to engaging in passionate, slow kisses. She wanted it so badly that she closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself. “I’m not sure that’s a very good idea.” 

Brenda’s crestfallen expression nearly made Sharon change her mind. “Sure, that’s all right. I bet there are probably a ton of other women who’d be happy to dance with you.” 

“I don’t want to dance with anyone else, Brenda. What I want,” she said, reaching out to tuck a strand of Brenda’s brown hair behind her ear, “is to go home, alone, and call you in the morning to ask you out for coffee.” 

Brenda grinned. “I think I’d like that.” 

Nodding, Sharon smiled and stood. “I’ll call you tomorrow then.” 

As she walked toward the door of the club, she could feel Brenda’s eyes on her. Perhaps it was the brown hair that gave her the courage to be more overt about her attraction to Sharon, or perhaps it was the fact that Brenda was single now. 

Regardless, Sharon was grateful. 

She could wait a little longer to satisfy her needs. She suspected that the wait would be worth it. 

\---


End file.
